Trials by FLight
by IronChicken3o3
Summary: A series (hopefully :P ) of Fang/Lightning One-shots. Chapter 1: Fang and Lightning are soldiers in the Civil War, on opposite sides. War is a terrible thing.


**This is my first FLight oneshot, so go easy on me.**

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The sun sank low in the evening sky, casting a vicious red glare over the battlefield. The air was thick with the buzz mosquitos. Muggy weather and stagnated water had driven them out in force today. The soldiers huddled close together in their hastily dug trenches, peering out of the earthworks and over the flooded cane field. They swatted bugs left and right, but it was mostly in vain.

This was their company's third day stationed in this field, and most were starting to hate this humid hell. Rations were down to a hard piece of bread and a strip of dried beef, and the well of clean drinking water was close to dry. The men's uniforms were so muddy that only a close scrutiny would reveal their original blue color. Morale was low, and only the will of their battle hardened leader kept some from deserting.

One of the men approached the commanding officer, his head low and his thumbs through his belt loops. "Sergeant, we haven't seen the grays in over a fortnight, Maybe they just turned tail and ran." He spoke with with shaky voice. he boy couldn't have been more than 17. "I reckon they just gave up and went home." Only after he had finished speaking did he dare glance up. His eyes made almost made their full journey, till the locked into battle with a pair of deep green eyes, a battle he instantly lost. His head sunk even lower than before.

"Private Wesley." she began, putting a strong emphasis on his rank. "Our orders are to hold this field, and until they change, or i get word of the reb's actually surrendering, then we hold this fucking field. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yessir" He mumbled, shuffling back to his post. The Sergeant sighed as he left, griping her musket tighter. She was dangerously close to throttling some of her subordinates, but this one was just a boy. Most of them were just farmers or shopkeepers, conscripted to fight for the union army. Not her though, Sergeant Yun Fang came from a long line of soldiers. From her father who'd served in the war of 1812, to her grandfather who'd fought for freedom in the revolution. Fang was a born fighter.

_Wesley's right though. The rebels have to be close to finished. They are low on men and supplies and our western forces have broken through to the deep south, its only a matter of time…_

An explosion roared through the camp, followed by a flurry of screams and shouts. Panic broke out. Fang's thoughts instantly cleared, and her soldiers instincts took over. She sprinted out of her tent and into the trenches. _How the hell did the reb's set up a cannon without the lookouts noticing. Fucking useless, every one of them._ When she arrived at the front she immediately assumed command, barking orders left and right.

Another explosion sounded, and Fang watched as several of her men flew backwards into the trench wall, bleeding from numerous shrapnel wounds. _We need to take out that damn artillery._ She yelled another command and her men loaded their own cannon. She then ran to the edge of the trench to try and spot where their artillery crew was. Bullets cut through the air next to her as she peeked over the top of the earthworks.

About a quarter mile away, the rebels were advancing across the field under of the cover of cannon fire. Fang guessed there were about 200 soldiers. Fang had around 300 men, but had learned over countless campaigns not to underestimate the rebel's battlefield prowess.

Fang turned and ordered her own cannon to fire. The shell crashed into the rebels right flank, and the air filled with the screams of men and horses. Some panicked and slowed their horses, while others sped up with a frenzied urgency. For a moment Fang thought their line would break. However the rebels somehow reformed their line, and began their charge again.

It was then that Fang spotted the rebels commanding officer, and her breath caught. She was slim and pale, and rode a horse even more pale than her skin. She held aloft a blade the likes of which Fang had never seen before and even from this distance, her eyes smoldered with a grim determination. Her most stunning feature however, was her soft pink hair that curled down her left shoulder.

_Her quick thinking must have saved their line._

Fortunately for the union troops, Fang's artillery crew had spotted the telltale muzzle flash of the opposing cannon in the tree-line. They quickly adjusted their aim and fired. Their aim was true, the shell landed 2 feet from the artillery chief, mercifully killing him instantly. The two men assigned to load and aim were hurled into nearby trees, and sentenced to bleed out in a matter of minutes.

Without cover from their artillery, the union troops were able to fire unheeded at the incoming rebels. What began as a battle became a slaughter. The rebel line finally broke, and chaos ensued. Those who turned to retreat only received a bullet to the back instead of the front. Eventually only a handful of rebels, including their pink haired commanding officer, were left alive. The union troops stopped to reload and the pink haired woman gained her opportunity to retreat.

She didn't capitalize. Instead, she alone charged the union line. A wordless battle cry tore from her lips as she raised her sword and spurred her horse forward. Something burned in her eyes, an emotion Fang didn't recognize. Fang was about to call for a cease fire when a lone musket fired next to her.

Private Wesley looked up from his musket, his hands shaking. He watched as his shot hit home, piercing the woman's neck. Her horse reared in panic and she slid off, landing on her back at the edge of the cane field. Choking on her own blood, her world slowly faded. Her last thoughts were of a sister she wasn't able to protect.

The union troops were combing the battlefield, dragging away bodies for the mass grave. Fang was leaning over the body of the pink haired rebel, staring into her lifeless blue eyes. She bent down, and gently rolled her knuckles over the woman's eyelids, closing them for eternity. A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, and she knew that she could have loved this woman.

Fang didn't want to be a soldier anymore.


End file.
